Autumn Leaves
by Milu Georgia
Summary: Winter Fic Exchange / The McCords spend a weekend together shortly after the stalker-case, but Bess is about to make a drastic change. [It will take a long time to erase the signs together with the knowledge that Elizabeth's job brought those worries upon them. Maybe even forever. And it makes her sick to her stomach to think of what might have been.]


Jesus Christ I'm d-e-a-d.  
I was smart, began to write early enough and made a ton of notes... but finishing 3 prompts is killing me, since I have this cold. But I managed it somehow, so hopefully the results aren't too bad. I really loved writing the Stevie-part of the story; Allison's was a cringe fest and the ending felt too fast, but my brain was fried somewhere in between. Have fun reading and let me know what you think, first work in this fandom.

Prompt: And I'd like a story of them all at home for an entire weekend... A nice family weekend. Maybe some of this stalker stuff could be tied into the story...

* * *

 **Music tip:  
Vancouver Sleep Clinic - Lung**

* * *

Autumn Leaves

* * *

There is some brown in there, soft spots of yellow mixing with the few green ones left, and then there is just the overwhelming mass of red leaves shining brightly in the afternoon sun. One lets go of its resting place under her scrutinizing gaze and tumbles to the ground in a last elegant dance, until it reaches the ground.

It had its purpose.  
Now it's left to die, beautiful, but useless.

Distant laughter reaches her ears and even though she wants to rest just a little bit longer in this foreign state of mind, something anchored deep inside of her pulls her away from the dream-like moment and back into the here and now.  
For a second longer Elizabeth stares at the tree she can see from their kitchen window, but the moment is gone and left her alone with that bitter taste in the back of her throat. They don't know yet.

She should have told them the second she made the decision, even before she wrote it down with that fine signature of hers, but every time she opens her mouth to just let it go, her throat closes up and the words disappear unheard in the back of her mind. Somehow she has got the feeling that it could ruin what they have at the moment. A weekend for themselves, promised by Conrad himself after they finally captured their prominent stalker. No calls, no emergencies at work, no _'I have to go to the office, it'll be just an hour'_ -kind-of-thing that always turns into the rest of the day really.

And surprisingly up until now even Russell has stuck to it.  
Sure, he just sends the next message with the same content as in the last seven before, some furious _'Are you for real?!'_ , but she ignores it all the same, turns around and heads back towards the living room of their old cottage they haven't visited in forever. Shortly before she reaches her loved ones Elizabeth stops and then silently watches their reflection in the family picture on the low bookshelf that stands just right to see them behind the wall she leans on. They are oblivious to her watchful eyes, not even Henry seems to have noticed, even though he has been a lot more on edge those past weeks. They all have been.  
Maybe it's just her CIA skills though, the ones she will never give up voluntarily. The feeling to roam around the house in the middle of the night without a noise, to know when something is up just by the tone of their voices, to intimidate others with her mere presence whenever someone is out to hurt her babies verbally or bodily is making her sleep at night, when everything else seems too much to bear - again.

And that is why she decided the way she did, isn't it?  
Because even with her past, even with her skills, something like _that_ happened. The safety of her family has been threatened, someone was genuinely considering to harm them to get what they wanted.

All because of her.  
All because of that job.

She can see it in the tense shoulders of Noodle, in the worried glance Stevie still throws at her younger siblings every so often, in the nervous tick Jason has developed during the past weeks and in the way Henry raises his voice a little bit more than usual when they argue about something irrelevant, because he doesn't know how to cope with the knowledge that he can't protect his family like he wants to.  
They still laugh, they still cheer while they continue to play the board game without her, but the signs are there. It will take a long time to erase them together with the knowledge that Elizabeth's job brought those worries upon them. Maybe even forever.

And it makes her sick to her stomach to think of what might have been.

"Who wants some fresh cookies?" she asks happily and enters the room with a plate in her hands that is eyed warily for a moment, before Jason slowly raises his voice. "You didn't cook these, did you?"  
"Are you insane, of course not. I did," Henry replies with a grin and accepts her playful hit with grace, while her kids  
begin to fight about who gets the cookies with the most chocolate chips.  
But at the same time they are all over her, roaming and trying to get her attention for some precious seconds. Noodle pulls her down on the free seat to her left and smiles at her with an amount of trust she nearly feels overwhelmed by; Stevie talks about one of her professors, something she has already done an hour ago, when she was with her mother in the kitchen, but anything goes to keep her mother's eyes on her for a second longer. And Jason, quiet and withdrawn Jason, pretends as if he threw the dice a little bit too far in her direction by accident and bends over the table to be closer and to feel the warmth radiating off of her.

It hurts.  
A few years ago, after she had shaken off the ties of the CIA for good, things had been so different. Elizabeth being there for her children wasn't a luxury. Now they soak up the rare attention she can spare like a sponge, those few seconds when the world is not going down and there is no war on their doorstep for their mom to prevent once again.  
And with all the worries of the world she has to carry on her shoulders she forgot how good it feels to just bathe in their precious presence without a care in the world (even though it's always there in the back of her mind).

"Babe?"  
The calm voice pulls her out of her thoughts and with a skip of her heartbeat she realizes that she has been staring at the game for far too long. Noodle and Jason are still arguing about whether or not his move has been just, Stevie tries to negotiate with cookies, but it's all half-hearted. They have noticed as well as Henry, who sits opposite of her and tries to read her.  
And in his eyes she can see his confusion, when he doesn't recognize the expression on her face for once. It's something unusual, something else is up, not the usual crisis they have to deal with whether it's family or work business. A moment later though she manages to calm him down easily with the sheer determination she feels roaring through her veins beside the fear and panic. He doesn't know the reason for it yet, but it's enough to erase his worries for now and make him focus on the rest of the family.

* * *

"Hard to believe you made it this far into the weekend already."

She continues to busy herself with the dirty dishes, as her youngest daughter enters the kitchen of their old cottage with a wicket sentence on her lips from which the rest of goes unsaid. What is meant to sound like some usual teasing is far more according to the underlying tone in her daughter's voice, but somehow she seems to feel uncomfortable with her own words a second later and falls into an tense silence. She helps her mother to put the rest of the food away and avoids her eyes, until Elizabeth interrupts the quiet that begins to press down on her.

"You're right. No need to feel sorry."  
Her voice is calm and reassuring. If things had been different, she might have tried to argue, to reassure her daughter that it wasn't always like that; waiting for a call, counting the hours until she had to leave _again_. But being sick and tired of making empty promises she goes another way for once, one she feels far more comfortable with than expected.

"Mom, I just-"

"It's alright, Noodle."  
The silence setting in once again is everything but enjoyable, so it only takes her seconds to make up her mind whether it's smart to start this conversation now or not.

"I'm sorry about how much pressure you guys were under those past weeks… I know it hasn't been easy on you."  
There is so much more left unsaid resting on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it back for a moment.  
How to talk to her about the fact that Allison didn't think them safe even with the extra Security Detail?  
How to talk to her about the fact that she blamed her parents, no matter how little, about how things turned out? If only they had stayed more at home instead of rushing off to work, if only she had decided different, if only-  
With a sigh Elizabeth is about to continue, but Allison cuts her off.

"I'm not blaming you."  
Elizabeth stills in her movement and looks up, but Noodle is still avoiding her piercing gaze.  
"You know I… Sometimes I have this stupid tendency to say stuff I don't mean, so… I don't blame either of you. That guy was a complete maniac and… I'm sorry, mom."

Finally she looks up and the expression in her daughter's eyes propels her forward, so that she can pull Allison into her arms. "I know," she quietly replies and struggles with the confusion at this unexpected reply, "Teenagers tend to do that every so often."  
Her voice turns into a soft murmur, while her eyes loose their focus and stare past the tree in the backyard.

When did her little daughter start to grow up?  
Her mind is captured by lovely memories made right here, far off from the city, with their horses, on cold winter days cut off from the outside world, when all they had to worry about was what they had for dinner the evening.  
And through the guilt making itself present once again at the forefront of her mind, she silently comes to the conclusion that Allison grew up, when her mother barely escaped death on her sixteenth birthday in a job that was supposed to be one of the safest in the world.

"I love you, mom."  
It is the right decision after all.

"I love you too, Noodle."

* * *

Every second of every day it amazes her how grown up Stevie is.

When she steps into her old room to help her daughter with something she requested, her oldest is standing in front of the old desk with her back turned to the door. Her hair has grown out and as of late she ties some strands back in a way that reminds Elizabeth of her younger self. More often than not she is wearing a skirt and blouse. She says it's Allison's advice, since she wants to give off a professional impression on people, but Henry thinks the absolute same as his wife.  
As much as they have fought at the beginning of her job as the new Secretary of State, Stevie is now looking, _acting_ more and more like her mother. Maybe even unconsciously. Her heart swells with pride, because she might have done a lot of mistakes during her time in office and it might have had a more negative effect on her family than on anything else – but Stevie is not one of them. She has grown out of rebellious behavior and one-sided opinions to be a young woman with a clear sight of who she is and wants to be.  
Instead of targeting a problem head on in furious determination, she acts so much more calmer and relaxed than Elizabeth has ever seen herself. Obviously Henry's genes pushing through for the better. Stevie knows the world isn't just sunshine and roses, she has realized there is not just a black and white, not only two sides to choose from. And so she fights to make it better in her own way as best as she can.

Like the blog she started with the help of Jason.  
Like the brochures she made with the help of her friends and Allison's design.

A conversation not too long ago rushes back into her mind, as she waits for Stevie to pull out the article she wants to show her in the first place. _Despite all that has happened, I'm glad that it came the way it is now, mom.  
_ Despite the angry words they threw at each other, the misplaced arguments, the false accusations, the short-sightedness of both of them. It still confuses her massively, so she leans with her hip against the desk and bends her head to look into her daughter's concentrated face.

"Do you have any regrets?"

She stops her movement and glances up at her mother cautiously, but not surprised. Since Elizabeth is certain to about 93 percent that her CIA skills are in fact not inheritable, she wonders if her daughter has talked to Henry about her during the past hours. Do they suspect anything? Will they be mad, if she tells them later rather than now?  
Her thoughts are interrupted by something that brings back that warm feeling inside of her chest. Stevie is looking at her with an expression in her eyes Bess has seen all to often in her own reflection. A silent form of understanding and accepting.

"I did," she muses quietly and for a moment Elizabeth forgets how to breathe.  
"But you and dad have always been there to make it all better in the end."

It's unusually optimistic and naïve for her otherwise foresightful and smart daughter. Her heart swells again with something warm and fuzzy that has grown to be so, so unusual for her. Against all odds, against the changes of her daughter she has still preserved that little bit of hope Bess has valued above everything else.  
Allison's voice echoes through the hall and calls for Stevie, who presses a sheet of paper into Elizabeth's hand with the request to check it over for her. The smile is still on her face as she passes her mother and for a fleeting moment her hand brushes her mother's shoulder. She isn't sure whether it is a gesture of love or rather comfort, but either way she turns around with an amount of love she hasn't been able to show in far too long.

"Stevie?"

She stops in the doorway and turns around to return the look of her mother with sparkling curiosity.

"I can't tell you how much I adore the woman you have become. You are-"  
Her voice cuts off. The more she talks the more she realizes that it is near impossible to tell her all the things she wants to say, but Stevie understands. Of course she does. With a glowing smile on her beautiful face she turns around to help her younger sibling.

And for a fleeting moment Elizabeth wonders.  
Not everything has changed for the worse, has it?

* * *

It nearly kills her that she forgot how beautiful this place really is.

The sun is slowly setting, while they have a walk around the nearby fields in blessed solitude. No agents, no Security Detail, no Russell, no world-altering problems. It is just her and her family, laughing and teasing each other as if none of them have changed.  
And the stab of relief in her chest at feeling _free_ for once is nearly making her spill it here and now. She is not the Secretary of State out here, there are no agents lurking around the perimeter and trying to find a possible risk, there are no hackers and millionaires threatening her life and her family.

Soon it will be like this once again.  
Soon it will all be okay.

"Mom?"

For a moment longer she revels in the unusual feeling that her right arm is linked with Jason's, while they follow Henry and the girls who are on either side of him. Then her eyes focus on her son alone, whose impatient expression is still resting on her.

"You didn't listen, did you?"

"I always do."  
She winks at him and then repeats what he has said about the new girl in his class, before she teases him and proclaims he absolutely has a crush on her. He is embarrassed and horrified at her apparently crazy idea and talks for two minutes straight about how Emma just _can't_ be his crush. When the blush on his cheeks finally fades and her laughter trails off, he sighs overdramatically and changes the topic.

"I still have to get used to it, you know?"

The opportunity is too good to let it be a waste and the high she feels at the care-free time with her son has not completely let go of her yet. "What, having a crush on-"

"Mom!"

"Sorry."

"No, I mean…" his voice begins to trail off and as if someone has suddenly flipped a switch the smile on her face vanishes. There it is again, that gut-wrenching feeling deep inside of her stomach that usually appears, whenever her kids' voices sound too weary, too hesitant.  
"It is _so_ good to _not_ have to worry about every little thing we do anymore, but… It still feels weird that we can do this. You know, running around here with no agents and still being safe."

There it is.  
The reason she decided the way she did in the first place, why everything makes sense, why it actually is the right decision, no matter how much she will miss it all, if she is honest with herself just for once.

Jason doesn't notice the change in her expression or the way her fingers cling to his arm, while they continue to follow the rest of their family back to the farm house. Instead he clears his throat and slows their pace, before he throws a self-conscious look up at her.  
"So… you think Emma likes me?"

A second ago she was so sure, so confident to go on, but…  
Is it right to rip them out of what they have built for themselves after her selfish decision?

…has everything _really_ been for the worse?

* * *

The glass of wine tastes absolutely fabulous and more than once she playfully refuses her husband a sip, because his expression is making her all giggly and it has been a present of Conrad and Russell. Something to savor, not to waste. Especially now with that decision in mind, she would have thought mere hours ago, but now that they are back in DC, now that she has spent a whole weekend together with her family and was able to think and _see_ with her own eyes the changes that have occurred…  
She isn't so sure anymore.

Her job has not only brought disaster upon her family, has it?  
Because if she is honest and regards the past with a clear mind, instead of fueling the rage and fear in her veins on and on, she knows it has helped her children to mature in a way they never could have out in a place cut off from the darkness the world has to offer.

And who else is gonna take over?  
Will she seriously be able to stand in front of the TV and watch her successor without itching to call him or her and make things right on her own? Will she seriously be able to go back to what was and teach, while the taste of saving the world still lingers on her lips?  
Will her family be able to go back to what once was? Probably not.

"What have you been thinking about?" Henry quietly asks and sits down by her side on the couch, after the kids have wished them goodnight. His arm around her shoulders eliminates the tension in her muscles in an instant and with a happy sigh on her lips she leans against his side.

"A lot," she admits and takes her time to formulate a more satisfying answer, because she knows he is not only talking about their peaceful Sunday evening and the dinner together, at which she has been unusually quiet.  
"I have thought about changing things up," she begins vaguely, but he understands the meaning in between the lines and presses a tender kiss into her hair.

"What did you decide on?"

The ringing of the doorbell stops her from answering.  
With an apologetic look and a silent promise to finish their conversation later she gets up to open Russell the door. It's no surprise, really. Not after the countless messages he left her over the weekend.  
His expression is priceless and one she hasn't seen since her first days in office.

"What-the-hell?"  
His voice is too low to be of any comfort and steeling herself for what he is about to throw at her (deservedly so) she greets him with the same calmness she brings up for troublesome ambassadors.

"Good evening to you, too, Russell."  
Admittedly not the smartest move, because he knows that tone of her voice inside out. His eyes narrow to slits and in the next second he is centimeters away from her face.  
"One message, one reply. Is that too much to ask?! For all you know the world could go down right now," he mumbles furiously, but still remarkably composed for what she has put him through this weekend. Nonetheless she replies fleetingly, "Well, regarding as you're standing here and not the Situation Room right now it apparently isn't. And I guess at that point you would've called me, all promises aside."

It's the wrong thing to say, of course it is, so it doesn't come as a surprise that Russell shoves past her in the next second to get enough privacy to raise his voice above an angry whisper. "Who the fuck do I need to fire for giving you this stupid idea to quit in the middle of an election?! You got us into this position in the first place, so it's your job to get us out of this mess and help us win. But instead you just bail out? What the fuck, Bess?!"

His rants are surprisingly amusing, when there are no lives on the line, but he is turning a funny color, so she tries to intervene. Of course the Chief of Staff is having none of it.  
"Russell-"

"Did you even think about what this will look like to the public? If you quit, Dalton will never win the election! You know as much as I do that those vultures will talk and speculate, until they come to the conclusion that you don't deem it worthy enough to support a second term despite-"

"Russell, just listen for one-"

"And that's the thing I don't get, you're not dumb, you know this will ruin his career! Mine on top of that, in case you're interested! You two were fucking friends for God's sake-"

His rant abruptly ends, when she begins to laugh.  
He cares. In between the lines it is so stupidly obvious and that thought alone is so refreshing and uplifting, that she can't keep the unnecessary seriousness up any longer. His face is going red, so she finally relieves him.  
"I won't quit."

And just like that his face falls and in a mix of clear confusion and something akin to hope he stumbles over his words.  
"You… won't?"

"I won't."

It is painfully obvious how he tries to regain his composure, as he nods, evades her eyes and then growls "You're lucky you won't." He keeps on mumbling something and for his sake she keeps quiet instead of saying thank you for trying to stop her.  
Out of the corner of her eyes she can see Henry coming closer, now that the shouting has stopped. His arm slings itself around her waist protectively and with an innocent greeting he asks what his late visit is about. Russell refuses to give him a straight answer and just looks at him darkly, then he says goodbye with a sigh and turns around.

"You better stop your wife from having more of those crazy ideas."  
With a last look towards her and something akin to a smirk – she _did_ safe him from a ton of problems just now – he raises his hand in a sloppy wave and leaves. For a moment they stand by the door and look after him, already typing away on his phone and barely looking at anything else surrounding him, before Henry kisses her cheek and then asks, "Do I want to know the rest of this?"

Content in his arms she leans against his chest and stares at the tree across the street. A lone leaf falls from one of the higher branches, a beautiful ruby-red color, to sail towards the ground and disappear in between the others.  
It isn't useless. Nothing of it is. It had its purpose, provided the tree with the necessary energy to keep on living and now it will aid some small animals to find shelter from the winter.  
It had its purpose like everything else. She had and will continue to have it, until the election is over.

"Just preparing to turn over a new leaf, I guess."


End file.
